Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 119212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
It was when I was trying to explain it to Melanie one night that I was starting to piece it together myself.
“Melanie. I lived on the streets.”
She’d been tipsy that night. It was martini night and she swung her martini to the left, her eyes rolling to the right. “So?”
“So.” We were talking about our families and she didn’t understand how I couldn’t have one.
Because I didn’t.
Donna told me her parents were dead. She had no siblings. She never talked about aunts or uncles. And well, with Deek…
“Your dad just abandoned you? He brought you in and then what? Paid for your college and you never talked to him again? That makes no sense.”
“Well.” From Sasha.
Melanie lifted her pinkie finger at her. “Don’t start with the one-word explanations. I’ve had way too many martinis to even start thinking that game is fun.”
“Fine.”
“Thank you.”
And Melanie swung her head back to me. “Your dad’s rich. Why aren’t you rolling in dough yourself?”
Because that would make sense to Melanie, who came from a family where everyone shared everything. She moved to Kansas for school and fell in love with the city. She stayed so we got Melanie, but she lost her family life. They all lived in Texas, though they came up six times a year.
We were heading into winter so the next time they’d come up would be end of spring.
Their family was Italian so when her family visited, there were carbs. Lots and lots of carbs, and my stomach was shifting, growling, because apparently I needed some carbs today.
But I kept digressing and that was a normal thing for me, because well; because it’s me.
It’s how I’m programmed.
But back to Melanie who didn’t understand that sometimes people you share blood with could be strangers and I was trying to explain that. Sasha gave up long ago, but her family situation wasn’t much better. No. It was, but that was a whole other ordeal itself. Her family lived in Jersey and her mom did nails and her dad ran a pool hall.
Finally, I broke it down. “You know those assholes who look down on homeless people?”
Melanie took a sip of her martini. “Yeah?” Her eyes were narrowed. She knew I was going somewhere with this.
I did. “Natalie was one of those people. Me coming into her house didn’t change anything. As far as she figured, she was just housing a street teenager.”
Of course, I never considered myself someone who lived on the streets. It’s just where I hung out when Donna was on a bender or when she locked me out. And sometimes those times lasted longer than a day, or a week, or a month, but to someone like me, and how I was, I was just giving my mother space while she sorted her latest drug habit.
“That’s…” Melanie made a face, her cheeks stretching tight. She put her martini down. “…awful.”
That was my life. I wasn’t one to dwell, so I didn’t.
I moved on, like focusing on Cut Ryder.
But fast-forward to today and my mind was going in circles and my stomach was in my chest. My heart was beating through my bladder.
I didn’t dwell on my family, but coming to Cut’s hockey game and I couldn’t help but start dwelling.
I didn’t like to dwell.
It never led me anywhere good.
But I was here. At his game.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come?
Maybe so, but I was here. My season seats were a few rows above where the players came out. Normally I never worried about them looking up, which they did on occasion. But none of them knew who I was. At least not before Friday night. There was no reason for me to even care in the past. The only person I would’ve hid from was Chad, and he wasn’t on the team. So no worries then, but it was a bit different this game.
I beat myself up all day yesterday, going back and forth if I did the right thing.
I still didn’t know.
Ever been so scared that you were paralyzed? Where your mind and heart were conflicted? One saying stay and hide, be safe, and the other saying don’t be a weasel and grow a pair? I was both, but hockey was my thing. I loved the game ever since learning Cut was its star, so I was here, just like all the times before. It had become my tradition to come to their games, some of the few hours I stepped away from the kitchen no matter what time the games were. This time, I knew Dean was here. I didn’t know if he was in the stands or in the suites, but it didn’t matter.
My usual seatmates were starting to arrive, and I settled back because the players were coming out for warm-ups.
* * *
“Oh, dearie.” Maisie leaned over to me, nudging me with her elbow and a nod to the ice. “Your boy is in a mood today, isn’t he?”